Attention Whorin'
by liloreeyo
Summary: 'The nations stare at Canada. This time, however, they stare not because they're trying to remember who this man is, but for a whole other reason. Oh boy is Canada hot.' Canada gets rebellious, America gets possessive. M for AmeCan sMut


"Mattie."

"What?"

"Maaaattie."

"What?"

"Mattie, c'mon."

"What? I asked you what is it?" Canada snaps as he turns sharply on his heels to face America who had been tagging along like a puppy.

"You're mad." America asks, smiling hesitantly. "Why are you mad?"

Canada's violet eyes frosts over and the air cracks with coldness. "I'm not." He says in an icy voice and turns away to continue walking down the hotel hall.

America shivers a bit but takes in a deep breath and runs after his brother. He seizes him by his arm and turns him around.

"Matthew, I know you're mad. If this is about me eating your lunch then I'm sorry. But France just serves the smallest meal possible on a ridiculously large plate and while he may get off to that, it just can't satisfy my stomach."

Canada stares at America with an incredulous look on his face. "No, America. I- No."

"Then what is it?" America asks, leaning in.

Canada steps back and glares at America with Arctic cold eyes. "Why do you even care?"

"Why wouldn't I care, Mattie? I love you!"

"You didn't love me or care for me during the goddamn meeting!"

America stares at Canada with thoughtful eyes and then says, "Ohh… You're mad because Russia sat on you during the meeting."

Canada looks away, tossing a curl out of his face. "And you saw me, but didn't say anything."

"Well babe, you can't really blame him. I mean you are hard to notice sometimes."

Canada's eyes widen and looks at America with a look of disbelief. "I-"

"And babe, you know I was kind of busy with arguing and being the Hero."

"I-"

"Now c'mon babe, some sweet Alfie lovin' will cheer you up for sure." America says all too casually and grabs Canada's arm but stops dead in his tracks when a cold, deadly aura that seems to promise murder fills the hall.

"Actually, _babe,_" Canada says, voice sweet and sugary but dripping with venom. "I don't think thirty seconds of suffocating under a grunting loaf of fat will cheer me up right now, thank you very much. Now if you'll excuse me, I need my rest." He says before slipping into a room down the hall, leaving his boyfriend frozen on the spot, jaws dropped, eyes wide (and a bit teary).

_Hard to notice,_ Canada thinks as he flings open his closet, violet eyes that are burning with rage scans the contents. _Let's see exactly how I'm 'hard to notice'. _

—

"Well, now that everyone's here, shall we begin the G8 meeting?" Japan asks.

"Wait, wait, wait. Something's off, something doesn't feel right." England says, green eyes scanning the room.

"Well, America does seem awfully quiet today." France states.

"I know a way to make him scream~" Russia giggles.

America is indeed being abnormally quiet and out of character with his suit coat hanging dangerously on the edge of his chair, his dress shirt buttoned in ways that made France cringe, his tie just looped around his neck, and his normally clear azure eyes, now a hollow cobalt blue behind Texas.

"Oi, America. Snap out of it. What's your bloody problem?" England asks, crossing his arms.

America looks up at the sound of his name and cobalt blue eyes flicker once. "Nothing. I'm fine." He says through grit teeth, jaws tight as he barks out his signature American laugh.

The room is silent for a while and Germany clears his throat as he pushes Italy back into his seat.

"I believe we are missing Can-"

A loud bam sounds through the room as the door slams open.

"I'm sorry for being late! The day's been a total mess. It was past noon when I woke up." Canada announces walking in.

The nations stare at Canada. This time, however, they stare not because they're trying to remember who this man is, but for a whole other reason.

Oh boy is Canada _hot_.

The man is not in his usual neat, brown suit. He is wearing a plain white dress shirt, unbuttoned from neck to chest, revealing pale, silky skin and sharp, sexy collar bones. His dress pants are replaced by a tight pair of black jeans that is hanging dangerously low and hugging his graceful long legs and sinfully firm ass perfectly. Usually, he would comb his rich locks down neatly but today, his locks are messy and tousled in just the right way (and in the most sexy manner), falling loosely around his face. His eyes are, as always, a sparkling amethyst behind sharp and clear glasses. His lips are tinted red and curved slightly up to form a tiny, wicked smile.

The room stays silent until Italy says, "W-who are you?"

Canada looks at him and laughs, a pretty bell-like laugh that makes Italy blush. "I'm Canada." He winks at Italy and strolls over to his seat by Russia. And as much as the nations tries not to, all pairs of eyes follow Canada's round little ass and the seductive sway of his hips.

England swallows hard and says, "Matthew, dear, what happened to your suit?"

Canada slides into his seat and looks up with an innocent face. "House keeping took all of them away by accident. They were already in the wash when I went to ask them." He says, pouting a little. "I hope you don't mind this outfit. It was the best I could manage."

"I-It's fine, Canada-san." Japan says, blushing.

"Perfect." Canada purrs.

It is the way Canada said that that snaps America out of his daze of disbelief and horror. The man found his gaze glued to Canada ever since he had entered the room. A thousand thoughts pulses through his mind. How dare Matthew insult him one day and come to a G8 meeting like a goddamn host the other. How dare Matthew wear those skin tight jeans in front of all these other goddamn nations. How dare Matthew show off that firm, round ass with those goddamn pathetic excuse for pants?!

He meets Canada's gaze and they hold it for a moment and Canada's cherry stained lips curl at the edges and their eyes narrow.

"Why Matthieu!" France cries, leering over, breathing heavily. "Why did you not come to me for a suit? You are at my house, oui? You know papa would be more than happy to provide you with some… service."

"Frog!" England scolds.

Canada's gaze drifts from a fuming America to a nearly panting France and he smiles.

"Non, _papa, _the thought did not cross my mind, that is all." He says, a sense of not-so-pure innocence laced into his voice, and as an afterthought, he adds. "Though I will remember your, ah, invitation, next time."

The way Canada talks makes everyone in the room squirm in their seats and think it's probably time for another pants fitting.

France falls into some sort of daze, mumbling French that according to England meant _my little boy, all grown up. I raised him well. So proud, so proud._

_Snap. _Germany looks at the broken pen in America's hand and clears his throat.

"Well then let us get a move on with this meeting, shall we?" He says and all nations apart from France (who still has a somewhat empty look in his eyes), America (who still has a burning murderous glare in his eyes), Russia (who as always, has a creepy look in his eyes), and Canada (who still has that maddening flirty look in his eyes), nod their heads eagerly.

"Alright so, regarding the current issues of-"

"Say, Matvey, it has been a long time since you have visited my house." Russia says, interrupting Germany. "How about you come over after this boring meeting, hm?"

_Crack._

The nations look over at the cracked wooden table under America's grasp. America returns no stares but Canada's, his normally sky blue eyes are now dark and stormy. Tension cracks between the couple.

England gasps. "That is mahogany!"

"Matvey?" Russia says, eyes back on Canada and teeth flashing, clearly enjoying the show of whatever is going on between the lovers. "What do you say?"

Canada tears his gaze off America and licks his lips, bats his lashes, and reaches across the table to wrap pale fingers around Russia's arm. "Of course-"

"NOT!" America yells, hands slamming down on the table and standing up straight. He storms over to Canada's seat and tugs him up roughly. Canada offers no great resistance and allows America to pull him out of the room.

America drags Canada to the elevator and throws him in as soon as the doors open. Canada stumbles in and turns around only to have America slam him against the wall.

"Matthew, Matthew, Matthew." America says against Canada's neck and bites down hard, drawing a moan of pain from Canada.

America pushes Canada further up and Canada wraps his long legs around America.

He really has to give it to his brother, Canada thinks, being able to carry Canada (who with all that landmass, is not the lightest person in the world) effortlessly and all the while leaving vivid, angry love marks on his neck.

America's tongue traces up Canada's neck to his lips and dives straight in between them.

The elevator dings and America carries Canada out. He hauls Canada over his shoulder, one hand left on Canada's ass both to support him and to grope him.

He reaches his hotel room and opens the door with lightning speed.

Once inside he throws Canada on the bed none too gently and climbs on top of him and takes their glasses off.

"Matthew, you attention seeking little whore. What am I going to do with you?" He asks darkly, lips pressing against Canada's ear and he licks and nibbles it as his fingers fly down Canada's shirt buttons and rips the fabric off.

Canada wraps his hands around America's shoulders when America presses their lips together and pushes America down (much to America's surprise).

"Let me service you, Alfie." He smiles and slides down.

America's pants and boxers fly off by the magical hands of Canada and he groans when his aching member finally breaks free from his cage.

Then Canada grabs his cock and gives it a few long firm strokes and wraps his red lips around the tip and America has to choke back a moan.

Canada sucks on his head and runs his tongue over his slit. America laces his fingers through Canada's golden curls and pushes him further down his shaft.

"You little slut. This is what you wanted, right? You wanted this attention. You know all the bastards in that room would've been more than happy to give you this attention. But you're my slut -oh yes- now relax that tight throat, Mattie."

Canada does and he lets himself deep throat America. He tightens the back of his throat when America pulls him up to increase his pleasure and hums to create vibrations for America's cock.

"That's it, Mattie. You loved it, didn't you? Loved the dirty stares of those nations and loved the fact that you knew just about every single one of them wanted to bend you over and fuck that tight little ass over and over, right then and there." America growls.

Canada moans and speeds up, bobbing his head up and down, each time taking as much of America as he can and applying his skillful tongue in all the places he could reach.

Soon, America starts panting and his hold on Canada's hair tightens when he feels his stomach tighten and he chants, "Yes, yes, yes, yes…"

Right when America is about to cum, Canada stops.

America stares at him, wide eyed when Canada grasps the base of his cock and his mouth leaves his painfully stiff cock that is dripping with precum.

"Ma-" He starts.

"I want you to apologize." Canada states, face flushing but violet eyes cold.

America stares with lust-darkened eyes and asks, "For what?"

"For yesterday. About the meeting, Russia and _me being hard to notice._"

"Shouldn't I get an apology for what you said to me then?"

Canada's grip tightens and he lowers himself back down. He licks a vein on America's shaft from bottom to the tip and scrapes his tongue down his sensitive slit and says, "Apologize, Alfie. It's not hard." He wraps his lips around the head again and sucks while squeezing the base of America's cock. "I know you want to." He breathes.

As much of America wants to not give in, he knows he can't with Canada denying him this pleasure and with his mind hazy and his cock agonizingly hard and in desperate need to cum…

"I-"

"What's that?"

"God damn you, Matthew. I'm sorry." He grumbles.

"I couldn't hear you. What did you say?"

"Fuck you! I'm sorry alright? Now just for the love of fuck, let m- oh god yes!" He cries as Canada releases his hold and takes in all of him and he felt himself letting go and cumming hard down Canada's throat.

Canada lets the thick white liquid flow down and swallows most of it. Some gets smeared on his lips when America pulls out and some trickles down his chin. He licks his lips clean and reaches up to plant a kiss on America's lips.

When he pulls away, America is glaring at him with dangerous, dark eyes, and Canada finds himself pinned under his brother in a heartbeat.

"Had your fun, babe?" America asks with a sneer, his hands unbuttoning Canada's skinning jeans and ripping them off. "Cause it's my turn now." He growls, glaring down at Canada with glassy, dark blue eyes. Canada shivers.

"What made you want to toy with me like that, I have no clue." He says, running his hands up Canada's chest and tweaking his nipples, earning small whimpers from his brother. "But boy, Matthew, do you need to be punished."

He tugs Canada up and pulls his tie off, then wraps it around Canada's eyes and knots it at the back of his head.

"Al!" Canada exclaims, hands slowly reaching up to the blindfold only to get slapped away by America.

America leans in to his ear and growls, "I said you've been a bad boy, and you need to be punished." His voice low, husky and full of promise.

Canada moans as America bites on his ear and nods. "Yes, Al, please."

America reaches down and grabs Canada's already hard cock and smirks. "You slut. You're hard already. Did the perverted stares of those nations turn you on this much or is this from sucking my cock."

"Ah— Both! -oh fuck- Both!" Canada mewls as America starts stroking his shaft.

America leans over to the nightstand and fishes out a tube of lube from the drawer, then squeezes some onto his fingers hastily.

He leans back so he's supporting his upper body with one of his elbows and Canada frowns confusedly.

"Alfie?" His hands hesitantly feel up America's chest.

"C'mere, Mattie. Spread your knees- Yes, just like that." He reaches his hand behind, to Canada's ass and slips in two slippery fingers at once.

"Ah!" Canada gasps at the sudden intrusion (nothing he's not used to, however.).

America thrusts his fingers in slowly at first, then he speeds up and scissors them back and forth to stretch Canada properly. He bit back a moan when feeling the muscles around his fingers contract and tighten.

He adds a third finger and thrusts further in, but purposely avoids Canada's prostate, coming painfully close each time only to pull out and thrust back in harshly.

Canada whimpers and his brows furrow. His starts moving his hips so he's fucking himself on America's fingers, in a desperate attempt to have his sweet spot hit but Al skillfully avoids grazing it.

"Come now Matt, what kind of punishment would it be if you take too much pleasure out of it?" America says, enjoying his view. Canada's golden locks are damp and dark with sweat and his cheeks are red. The make-shift blindfold is staying on well thanks to Canada's sweat. America grins when he sees Canada chewing his lips and groaning out of frustration.

He stills Canada's thrusts down and picks Canada up to straddle him.

"Ride me, Matthew."

Canada moans and reaches behind and searches for America's cock clumsily, when he grabs a hold of it he lines his own stretched hole with the hot, hard shaft and practically slams himself down. Both him and America moan loudly.

Then Canada does something that surprises both himself and America; he cums. Thick, white cum shoots out from the tip of his cock, onto America's chest and he yells out lustfully.

He rides out his orgasm and bends over his brother, panting and chest smearing his own cum.

America blinks and smirks devilishly.

"Why, Mattie, you came already? But we've only just started." He coos.

"Hit.. prostate hard… felt.. too good…" He breathes out once he found his breath.

"Well no excuse babe, keep going." America says.

Canada's eyes widen behind the tie. "Al, I'm still too sensitive- Ah! No don't!"

America ignores his protest and grasps his hips, rising Canada up his shaft and pulling him back down with great strength.

Canada yells, protesting still in-between moans. "No~ Al, I'm still- Fuck! Stop- Ahnn!"

He is completely overwhelmed by America's hard, hot cock filling and stretching his over sensitive hole over and over. Having just came, his pleasures are intensified and he thinks he can feel every vein and pulse, curve and dent of America's cock. He loves it. Loves being able to feel everything and loves being completely filled and dominated by his brother.

He puts his hands on America's chest and starts thrusting down and riding America once more. America groans and shifts his angles slightly.

"Oh fuck yes!" Canada screams as the head of America's cock slams into his prostate.

Mantras of pure bliss and pleasure spills from his lips and he thrusts down even harder, each time pulling himself up, almost off the American's cock and then slamming right back down, letting his sweet spot take mind-numbing, powerful blows.

America grunts and groans, hands trying to keep up with Canada's speed. Fuck, his brother looks so sexy like that, head tilting backwards, dark blond hair and sweat clinging to his face. And his fucking tight ass squeezing him like a fucking vice, and sucking him in, completely swallowing his cock with velvety heat. Each time he hits his prostate his hole contracts, giving even more pleasure to America.

Canada's view of darkness behind the tie turns white as his pleasure escalates. His mind can barely form a coherent thought as all it wants is more more more…

"Ah!" One more solid blow to his prostate and Canada screams. "I'm cumming, Alfred. Gonna- Oh yes! Cum…!"

But America also has something he wants, and he is going to get it even though he too, is close, and Canada's tight, welcoming ass is impossibly hard to leave. He does the unthinkable and pulls out.

He flips their positions so he's pinning Canada from atop, watching Canada squirm and whimper from the emptiness he feels.

"What the fuck?"

America pulls the tie off his face and throws it to the side. "You insulted my skills in bed, baby. Now we all know you didn't mean it because, obviously, my skills in bed are godlike; I would still like an apology. I'm not asking much, you just have to scream out 'Alfred F. Jones is the best lay in the world, and I will forever be his slut.'"

Half open, glassy purple eyes lose a bit of glaze and he stutters, "I- N-No."

America quirks a sweaty blond eyebrow and lets his tip breach Canada's tight ring of muscle slowly. He rubs the head in and out. Canada moans through pressed lips.

"Oh Mattie, just make this easier for the both us, hmm?" He says and slams in but does not pull out.

Canada tries shifting himself up and down in a desperate need for stimulation but America's hands keep him in place. He clenches and unclenches his hole to see if America will give in to him but America only flinches so he stops when it is made clear that America is not going to budge.

Canada whimpers. He really needs to cum. America had stopped at the most crucial moment, if he had given even half a thrust more, he would have came already. His member is achingly hard with precum oozing out the tip like a goddamn waterfall.

"A-" He starts, hands snaking around America's back and America's eyes that were cold and hard with determination like steel melts and his hips begin snapping out and in slowly.

"What?" He asks, voice low.

"Alfred F. Jones is -oh fuck- the- Ah!" America increases his speed with every word Canada says.

"Faster! The best fucking- Ah Al! Lay ever! Yes!" He screams and claws at America's back as he starts thrusting with full speed once more.

"And?" America grunts, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"And I will forever be his little cum slut! YES!" Canada screams, one solid blow to his prostate had his eyes rolling to the back of his head as thick ribbons of cum spurts out of his cock onto his and America's chest.

"Fuck— Matt!" America groans as he feels Canada's hole clenching around his cock and he snaps his hips and slams into his lover one last time and cums deep inside Canada.

Canada moans as he feels America's cock pulse and spreads his warm seeds deep inside himself.

Waves of ecstasy rush over America as he feels Canada milk him dry and when it all passes, he collapses on Canada.

The two lay there for a while, catching their breaths and bathing in afterglow. Canada speaks up first.

"Alfred, get off. And take your dick out of me, I'm too tired for a second round right now."

America slips his flaccid cock out and stares as his cum leaks out of his brother's stretched hole lewdly, flowing down his ass crack and forming a small puddle on the sheets.

"I don't know, Mattie. A second round does seem pretty inviting." He teases.

Canada snorts and slaps him with a pillow.

America lies back down and wraps himself around Canada, resting his head on top of his brother's.

"I'm sorry, Mattie. I didn't really mean what I said. It's just, you're so fucking beautiful and if I see it then obviously other nations can see it too. And you're mine, Matthew, no one can take you away from me. That's why I secretly, selfishly, wanted you to stay hard to notice. And I thought maybe you'd do just that if I persuaded you that you are hard to notice, but I guess it backfired real bad, didn't it. I got so jealous earlier, when I saw those nations eyeing you like wolves eyeing a sheep." America murmurs into Canada's sex scented hair.

Canada nods and buries his face into America's chest. He kind of guessed it before because America is like a book to him, but hearing him say it himself made Canada's heart swell. Emotions had taken the better of him before.

"I'm sorry, too." He whispers.

America smiles and gently kisses Canada's head.

"Love ya."

"Love you too, you big idiot."

* * *

...I wrote smut? whaaa..

LOL yeah first time writing smut for me! and first time writing anything this long in present tense. Boy that was eye opening... I hope it wasn't too bad. there's probably a lot of spelling and grammatical errors cause I only proofread it once and I'm not used to present tense LOL sorry.

aaand if you're confused, the meeting was taking place in the hotel they were staying at. (hotels have business meeting floors, right? I'm pretty sure some do...)

Sorry if I failed but hey, there's a first time for everything, right?


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